laid for his head of staff. "He was frightfully shirty," concluded the
note jubilantly.

From the Bollygolla camp the messenger-boy returned without a scalp,
and with a verbal message to the effect that the King could neither
read nor write.

Grand Duke Vodkakoff, from the Russian lines, replied in his smooth,
cynical, Russian way:--"You appear anxious, my dear prince, to scratch
the other entrants. May I beg you to remember what happens when you
scratch a Russian?"

As for the Mad Mullah's reply, it was simply pure delirium. The journey
from Somaliland, and his meeting with his friend Mr. Dillon, appeared
to have had the worse effects on his sanity. He opened with the
statement that he was a tea-pot: and that was the only really coherent
remark he made.

Prince Otto placed a hand wearily on his throbbing brow.

"We must have a conference," he said. "It is the only way."

Next day eight invitations to dinner went out from the German camp.

* * * * *

It would be idle to say that the dinner, as a dinner, was a complete
success. Half-way through the Swiss general missed his diamond
solitaire, and cold glances were cast at Raisuli, who sat on his
immediate left. Then the King of Bollygolla's table-manners were